Play Crack the Sky
by DizzyAlice
Summary: I wish more than anything in the world I knew how we came to this. No, that’s a lie. I wish more than anything in the world I didn’t have to do what I’m doing right now. But closely seconding that is my wish to know how we managed to fall this far. SxK
1. This is the End

_**Play Crack the Sky  
**__A South Park Fanfiction by DizzyAlice_

_Chapter One: (This is the End.)_

A/N: Sorry I haven't updated anything in a while, I just have been having really awful writer's block as of late. I've lost pretty much all interest in TDAF so I'm putting it on indefinite hiatus (I may or may not pick it up again in the future). I'm hoping that this story will help me overcome my block.  
There will be drama, there will be fluff, there will hopefully be a healthy dose of humor. Even though this first chapter is incredibly overdramatic and heavy, the whole story is not going to be like this. Trust me.  
There will also be Style. And possibly Bunny. And potentially other pairings I haven't decided on yet.  
And fifteen chapters - no more, no less. I plan on solidly sticking to this; I have a goal in mind and a vague but strengthening plan of getting there.  
This is being based off a song with the same title as the story, Play Crack the Sky by Brand New.  
I hope some of you will stick with me on my way, and enjoy the ride as much as I hope I will.  
I own nothing.

* * *

I wish, I wish more than anything in the world I knew how we came to this.

No, that's a lie. I wish more than anything in the world I didn't have to do what I'm doing right now. But closely seconding that is my wish to know how we managed to fall this far.

Maybe that's one of my problems. I always want to know things. I want to know what's going on, what people are thinking while they're thinking it. I want to know all the mysteries of the universe and this want, this quest for knowledge, it's been making me ruin all the things I already know. It's never enough. I always want to know more.

He's staring at me with these broken eyes and it's killing me to know that I'm killing him. Through those broken eyes I can see his insides curling up and dying.

I never thought it would come to this. I never wanted it to come to this. We had been perfect, we climbed so high together. I thought we were above everything, above the world.

When you climb that high, it just hurts that much more when you inevitably fall.

"What are you saying."

His voice is flat, empty, hollow. He can't even garner the emotion to put a question mark at the end of his question. It's simply a statement, some inkling of a hope that he's misunderstood me.

I bite my lip because I know that even though I've already broken him, I now have to break that tiny shred of hope he's held onto as well.

If you love something, you're supposed to let it go. That's what I've heard.

But no one ever told me just how hard it would be to do that.

I'm trying so much to keep my eyes icy cold, to keep my expression carefully indifferent, despite the way my body is reeling on the inside. Every organ is protesting the words that next come out of my mouth – my brain is screaming, my heart is pounding, my stomach is clenching, my muscles are tensing.

My stomach suddenly convulses and I force back the reaction my body wants to take, vomiting instead the words.

"I don't love you anymore."

The words hit him like bullets, and he's gone. His soul has died.

I'm a murderer.

His guard is down now, he thinks I'm done. He's entirely unprepared for what I have to say next, and it pains me that much more because of it.

But it has to be done.

"I never really did."

That's really the final straw. His eyes are shining with saline waiting to spill over, his teeth are biting hard into his lip to prevent a sob I know is just waiting to come out. He doesn't want me to see him weak and he's trying so hard to hide it, trying so hard to stay strong until he can get away and out of sight, and in a way I respect him for that. I've always respected the control he has over his emotions and I realize it takes something incredibly strong to break that.

I never would've thought I would be the cause for his loss of control, however. I was usually the one comforting him in just such situations.

"Okay," he manages to choke out, sounding small and pained. "Okay." He says it again.

He turns. He walks away.

The hardest part of all is watching him leave and knowing I can't do a thing to stop it.

* * *

A/N: Sorry this chapter is so short =/ They'll be longer in the future, I promise.  
Please review~ :D


	2. This Story's Old But It Goes On and On

_**Play Crack the Sky  
**__A South Park Fanfiction by DizzyAlice_

_Chapter Two: This Story's Old But It Goes On and On Until We Disappear_

A/N: I lied. This chapter is also short. I will continue to work on improving that in the future.  
Have some backstory.  
Thank you to everyone who reviewed last chapter, you guys rock :3

* * *

The story of Stan and I began practically when we were born, and it'll continue until we're both six feet under, sleeping with the fishes. Of this I am sure.

I met Stan in preschool. Forging friendships back then was so much simpler. I believe we bonded over a coloring book or something to that effect.

It seems like it was that easy, like we were just instant friends. But the truth is even my four-year-old self somehow knew that there was something deeper there, that Stan and I were meant to be the best of friends, and that we would remain that way forever.

From then on, it was absolutely impossible for me to picture a life that didn't include major amounts of Stan.

In kindergarten we met Kenny and Cartman, and in elementary school our group expanded further, but even then it was always Kyle and Stan, Stan and Kyle. It was impossible to hear one of our names without the other closely following.

Sure, we had our fair share of fights. Even the best of friends argue. But we were always back together and closer than ever within the week.

Stan was always the cool one, the popular one, the charismatic one. Everyone wanted to know him. I guess it was through this association that people wanted to know me, too, but my boringness could never compare to Stan's natural awesome. But he, of course, always put me first. He wasn't about to let anyone or anything mess up our friendship. Neither was I, but I had less opportunity for this.

To this day I'll never know why he picked me over everyone else, but I'm glad he did. Maybe he felt that same bond I had the first time I ever saw him – the ties running deeper than brotherhood and the knowledge that we truly would be in each others' lives until they were over.

There was only one incident where Stan almost broke the bond. In third grade, there was Wendy. He fell head-over-heels for her. It was kind of ridiculous. He had this thing where he used to puke all over her if she so much as smiled at him, but he managed to get over that and they went out for a while. And broke up. And went out. And broke up.

I could keep this up all day.

Anyways, my point being, he was a mess. He dropped his friends, his life, everything – even me – for her.

I'm not gonna lie, I felt pretty betrayed. I know that in a similar situation I would always put my friendship with Stan first, especially before a girl, of all things. I thought we were better than that. I thought _he_ was better than that. It was disheartening to be proven otherwise.

Come sixth grade, Wendy had broken his heart one too many times and he swore off her. Of course, at this point he came crawling right back to me. I really wanted to be mad at him for ditching me like he did, but it was hard to hold a grudge against those pleading blue eyes.

We made a pact that year that we would never, ever let a girl come between us again.

Neither of us dated much after that – not that I dated much to begin with. I was like the leftover – girls only went for me if Stan turned them down. I never had much interest anyways. As for Stan, he dated around some, but never seriously. Wendy was his first and last steady (if you could really call it that) girlfriend.

I often view our summer before high school as our last few months of innocence. Before we were really forced to mature faster than either of us were ready for. We entered our freshman year confident of ourselves and of each other, feeling like we owned the world. Together, we could surely accomplish anything.

Neither of us anticipated how drastically everything would change.

* * *

A/N: There was some confusion last chapter over who was narrating, etc. because I never actually said; I did that on purpose but then realized it was dumb because as of now you should know who the narrator is. The POV is not different here from the first chapter, nor will it ever change in this fic.  
I really love it when you guys review because it makes me feel like this isn't all for naught, that there are actually people out there enjoying my work, and that makes me super super happy. And if you review I promise you'll be rewarded with a nice little note from me, it might even have some spoilers in it if you're lucky ^_^ (unless you review anonymously, I really wish I could reply to those D:) but I love seeing your comments and opinions on the story thus far, and it tells me what I'm doing well and also what I need to improve on.  
So, please, review! :D


	3. This is the Calm

_**Play Crack the Sky  
**__A South Park Fanfiction by DizzyAlice_

_Chapter Three: (This is the Calm.)_

A/N: Well, we've gotten a bit longer this time. I'm still working on that D:  
Um, warning for a bit of... colorful language ahead xD Alcohol increases vulgarity 35% apparently. (That is totally not a made up statistic... xD)  
Thank you to everyone who has read/alerted/reviewed, I love you all x3

* * *

"Fuck, Ky, why aren't you a girl?"

"Well you see, Stan, when a man and a woman fuck, there's these things called chromosomes–"

He held up a hand to stop me. The party was still raging around us, but like usual, Stan and I had created our own little bubble and planned to stay there. We had done our socializing already, and we could easily check getting wasted off our party to-do list. There had been random making out, dancing on tables, beer pong, girl drama, _guy_ drama, vomiting in the bathroom, and all that was really left was to curl up in a corner and mumble drunkenly to each other until it was time to go home.

"No, no, I know that, I do. What I mean is… what I'm saying…" He broke out laughing. "Fuck, I don't know what I'm saying."

"No, I get it. Like, if you were a girl, I would totally date you."

"If you were a girl I would've fucked you senseless long ago."

"If _you_ were a girl, I'd fuck you senseless right now."

"You'd lose your voice from screaming."

"You'd be bedridden for a week."

"If you were a girl, of course."

"Of course."

We just kind of stared at each other for a minute, then, him grinning and me lost in thought.

There were so many reasons why I didn't date. I didn't want it to interfere with my schoolwork, I had no interest, and besides, what girl would want to date me, anyways?

That was what I told myself, at least. Call it my low self-esteem kicking in, but regardless, none of those were the real reason behind my complete scorn of dating.

This probably sounds totally arrogant and douchey, but it's the truth. No girl was ever good enough. Every time I looked at a girl as potential dating material, I found myself subconsciously comparing her to Stan. I realized what I was looking for was just that – Stan in a female body. Obviously I hadn't found it yet, and it was highly improbable that I ever would.

So it should seem obvious now that I wanted to bone my best friend, right?

Yeah, not so much. The problem was, I wasn't gay. I liked girls – shit, did I like girls. I had dipped into the library of mags located under Kenny's bed on enough occasions to be sure of this. And there was the whole issue that the thought of doing _anything_ with another guy kind of grossed me out.

Stan was my soul mate. He was everything I could ever hope to want.

The only problem was that he had a dick.

Stan tried to take a drink out of the cup he was holding, which didn't work too well, seeing as it was empty. He glared at it as if it had personally offended him before saying, "I'm dry. You want to go get some more?"

"Sure." He got up and I followed him, weaving between groups of people on our way to the kitchen.

We got stopped en route by our friends Clyde and Token, who apparently wanted to talk to Stan. I stood there deciding whether I should wait for Stan or continue on my way and let him catch up, but my decision was shortly made for me as a skinny little blonde boy appeared seemingly from nowhere and grabbed my arm, quite literally dragging me outside.

Once we were out in the night air, away from the party, everything seemed calmer and I realized just how much my head was swimming.

"Kenny, what're you up to?"

He ignored me, reaching deep into the pocket of his unzipped parka to produce a joint and a lighter. Once it was lit he took a deep drag before offering it to me. I hesitated before taking it.

Now, I don't smoke often. Hardly ever, actually. But, hell, it calms me down. And I hadn't noticed before, but my hands were shaking something awful.

"So, when're you an' Stan gonna screw?" Kenny asked suddenly, and I almost choked on the smoke I was still holding in.

"Excuse me?" I sputtered.

He rolled his eyes exaggeratedly, taking the joint back from me. "C'mon, man. I heard all a what you two were talkin' 'bout. An' it don't help when you make those doe-eyes at him all the time." His pale blue eyes went wide and flirty. He batted his lashes at me.

"Shut up, I do not," I scoffed. "And me and Stan were having a completely hypothetical conversation."

"Oh, I'm sure." He grinned wide.

"We were!"

"You two really jus' need to fuck an' get it over with."

He exhaled out of pursed lips, blowing a stream of sickly-sweet smoke straight into my face. I wrinkled my nose and took the joint back from him, taking one last hit before proclaiming, "I'm going inside."

Walking through the door, I was swept back up into the flurry of activity of the party. It took several minutes of wandering aimlessly until I found Stan again.

"Hey," he said, pressing a cup into my hand. "Where did you disappear off to?"

"Kenny kidnapped me." I tried to look annoyed, but I just ended up grinning. God, it was just so easy to grin at him. "He wanted someone to smoke with."

Stan slung an arm over my shoulders and led me towards the door. "I'll have to keep a better eye on you, then. Don't want you getting away from me."

I abandoned my now-half-empty cup on a table. "We going?"

"Yeah, party's getting lame anyways."

One of the great things about living in a town as small as South Park was that everyone lives practically down the street from each other. It made walking back to Stan's house in our inebriated state fairly easy.

Upon our arrival, we turned to our usual post-party ritual – vegging on the couch with late-night infomercials until we passed out.

My eyelids were drooping and I could tell I was about five minutes away from a deep sleep when Stan's voice right in my ear murmured, "I don't see why we can't."

I jolted away, breathing heavy from the fright his unexpected words had given me. "Jesus, Stan. Can't what?"

He moved closer so he was practically on top of me again. His hand moved to my knee, sliding up my thigh. "Date," he said, eyes half-lidded and smirk seductive. "You and me. I think we should. Who cares if one of us isn't a girl?"

"Um," I squeaked. It was hard to think with the heat of his hand on my leg, and just with the fact that he looked so goddamn _sexy_.

Maybe dating him wasn't such a bad idea.

That was my last coherent thought before his mouth was at my neck, kissing and sucking and biting. My breath was coming in short little gasps because _fuck_ did it feel good. I felt his lips curve into a slight smile, my rapid breathing egging him on that much more. He kept going at it, playing some sort of let's-see-how-turned-on-I-can-get-Kyle game with his mouth and – shit – his hands, they were pushing my shirt away and pawing eagerly at the front of my jeans where the fabric was growing tight, and I don't remember exactly what happened after that, just this really good feeling that I never wanted to end.

But of course, it had to end at some point, and end it most certainly did.

I woke up early the next morning splayed across the couch, a disheveled Stan half draped over me. My shirt was on the floor and my jeans were unzipped and I was left piecing together blurry memories from the night before.

I had no idea how far Stan and I had gone last night. I had no idea what would happen to us now. But, I decided as I gathered my things and got myself out of there before Stan's parents woke up and saw us, I sure as hell wasn't sticking around to find out.

* * *

A/N: Lollll I actually like this chapter :D Party scenes are so fun to write.  
Please review, they make me so happy x3 And a happy Alice = an Alice who writes more. A bit of incentive for y'all there ;D


	4. Calm Me and Let Me Taste the Salt You

_**Play Crack the Sky  
**__A South Park Fanfiction by DizzyAlice_

_Chapter Four: Calm Me and Let Me Taste the Salt You Breathed While You Were Underneath_

A/N: Mmh, normally I wouldn't update this quickly, but I finished this chapter and I liked it so I figured what the hell.  
Not that I gave you guys a ton of time, but only one person reviewed last chapter (thank you Mila)... Are you guys still alive out there? D:

* * *

I've seen the ocean very few times in my life.

The most memorable of these times was when I was younger, my mom took my little brother and I to visit our cousin in Connecticut over summer break. They decided to take us to the beach one day.

We were on the Long Island Sound, so there weren't really waves, but the feeling of peace I got from the sand beneath my feet, the sun hot on my bare back, the cool water gently lapping at the shore, that stayed with me for a long time. At times I find myself yearning for ocean breeze and the taste of salt water.

I was standing on the shore then, my feet on the bare sand and the cold water flowing around my ankles. But it felt different, somehow. Ominous. The beach was devoid of people, the water was dark, and I could tell from the grey clouds billowing overhead that a storm was brewing.

I stood staring out to the horizon, to where the water continued on forever and ever until it dropped away, swallowed by the abyss of the sky. I could've stood there for minutes, hours, days, and it wouldn't have mattered. The world was dead and gone, buried under miles of ocean, and I was the sole survivor.

Not much of anything mattered anymore.

I was brought out of my reverie as a teen with inkblot-black hair and sunken eyes brushed past me. "Excuse me, sir," he mumbled as he moved by.

I stared after him as he slowly drifted further into the water. "Stan?" I asked softly.

He whirled on me, his face ashen and haunted. "Do you know me?" he pleaded, clawing desperately at the front of my shirt. "Do you know me, do you?"

I tried to answer but my throat was closed. I began coughing. After a short while of this I managed to choke up something. I spit a single white feather out into my hand.

When I looked back up Stan was far out in the water, where it came up to his chest. The wind picked up and it whispered _Do you know me do you know me do you_?

I dropped the feather I had coughed up. It fluttered away from me, landing afloat on the water. I ran out to where Stan was, screaming his name, but he had disappeared beneath the surface.

When I got to where he had been, I called his name one last time. And then looked down. What I saw made my breath catch in my chest.

Stan was staring up at me – but his eyes were blind. His mouth was open, ocean water flowing between his slightly parted lips. All the color had drained from his skin and his hair gently floated to form a black halo around his submersed head.

"Stan!"

It was dark. The only light came from the soft glow of the TV. I was sitting up on the couch, on _Stan's_ couch, in Stan's living room. My hand shot out and wrapped around an ankle that wasn't my own.

Muffled groaning came from the other end of the couch, and then Stan sat up as well, rubbing his eyes. "Jesus, Ky, 'm righ' here. Wha's wrong?"

I just stared at him, my eyes wide, one hand covering my mouth. I just couldn't seem to get the image of him drowned in the ocean out of my head.

"Kyle…?"

"Sorry, it was just – just um, a bad dream, I guess," I managed, my voice shaking.

"You wanna talk about it?"

"Just… Please don't leave me, Stan. I don't know what I would do without you."

He sighed. "Is that what this is about?" I bit my lip, brow furrowing. He reached out, curling one hand over my thigh, raising the other to pet my hair. "Ky. I'm not going anywhere. Okay? Calm down, everything's okay."

I nodded, and I stared into his eyes, and I trusted that what he was saying was true.

It had been a few weeks since the party, and there we were on the same couch where we had… I don't even know. Fooled around? Neither of us had mentioned that night since, and I was left wondering if Stan had been too drunk to remember. A large part f me thought what a relief it would be if this were the case, but I couldn't seem to silence this tiny hope that he remembered, and had been thinking about it as much as I had been.

This tiny hope was also making it harder and harder for me to convince myself that dating Stan was a bad idea, a very _bad_ idea. But Stan and I were meant to be, we were like, like – soul mates or something. That sounds stupid, but how else was I supposed to rationalize that feeling I've always had for him, which is definitely more than strictly platonic, ever since I first saw him, when my four-year-old self didn't even really know what true love was?

What I had with Stan was the closest I might ever come to true love and I was an idiot if I was going to pass that up.

And all this despite the fact that he was a guy. But the thing was, Stan wasn't just some guy. He was _Stan_. He was my best friend, and he knew me better than I knew myself and he was staring at me with the deepest concern in his eyes.

And I wanted him.

All of him.

So I kissed him.

Well, it didn't happen just like that. I leaned in slow, gave him time to realize what I was doing and back away, but that's just the thing.

He didn't.

He let me gently press my lips to his. I tried to ignore the fact that his mouth tasted like salt and concentrate instead on the way our lips matched up perfectly.

He kissed me back softly and then we separated, his eyes sparkling and his mouth spread into the most beautiful smile.

"I'm not going anywhere," he whispered again. "I promise."

That time he leaned in and kissed me, and that time we didn't pull apart. Together we slowly fell back onto the couch, him on top, still attached at the mouth. The gentle, rhythmic ebb and flow of our kissing reminded me of the ocean – of a calm, sweet ocean that no one drowned themselves in. After a while our kisses died down and we just lay there, together, holding each other.

The contrast between that night and the night of the party was stunning. The gentleness and innocence of it all, the lack of alcohol blurring our minds and allowing us to act on our true desires. The knowledge that we had consciously chosen this path for our relationship, and we would both wake up in the morning remembering this feeling.

On that couch in his embrace, I felt safe. Warm. Loved. That was all I ever really needed. And with his arms wrapped around me, I allowed myself to drift off to a far more peaceful sleep.

The stormy ocean of my mind was finally at ease, and now I could rest.

* * *

A/N: Things other than the song "Play Crack the Sky" that inspired this chapter: The song "Self Conclusion" by the Spill Canvas, and the book I'm reading right now, The Butcher Boy by Patrick McCabe.  
I really enjoy writing dream sequences because I just find dreams so fascinating. They're like, the innermost workings of the human mind, and we don't even consciously control them. Pretty cool stuff. My parents got me this huge dream interpretation book for Christmas, and I've actually been getting pretty good at interpreting my own dreams, but other peoples' are still hard ._. but it's fun to try :D  
Dream sequences are also good for beating you guys over the head with symbolism, yaaay! xD  
Anyways, review and I will love you forever~


	5. We Are Breathless

_**Play Crack the Sky  
**__A South Park Fanfiction by DizzyAlice_

_Chapter Five: (We Are Breathless.)_

A/N: Sorry for the gap between updates here, I've been pretty busy with this little thing called "life"... And also this chapter gave me a bit of trouble. But thanks to much help from an awesome friend, I have the rest of the story outlined as of this afternoon :D So hopefully it should be fairly smooth sailing from here on out... Ten more chapters, guys! I wonder what's gonna happen =)  
Thank you so, so much to everyone who reviewed/alerted/favorited/read/WHATEVER on the last chapter, you guys rock SO hard, I mean it, I would be nothing without you. Tons of love x3

* * *

It was snowing.

What a surprise.

It was still dark out, the sun sluggishly hauling itself over the horizon, fighting a tired battle with the prevailing night. The streetlights were lighting wide circles on the ground.

And it was snowing.

This had always been a familiar scene – early morning, Stan and I waiting for the bus, Kenny and Cartman running late as usual.

Stan looked bored, his eyes distant and a slight frown on his mouth. We were standing next to each other, close but far enough away that we weren't touching.

A strong gust of wind blows, pushing snowflakes and biting cold in my direction. I shivered violently, hiding my face in the top of my jacket. I glanced at Stan again, and then sidled closer to him, leaning against his side and resting my head on his shoulder.

He pressed his lips to the top of my head. "What's wrong?"

"It's cold," I whimpered, shivering again.

"Awh. Maybe I can help warm you up."

He turned toward me, tugging the zipper of my jacket down. Once it was unzipped he slid his hands inside, wrapping his arms around my waist.

"Better?" he asked, smiling down at me.

"A little." I smiled back, reaching my arms up and crossing them behind his neck.

"Because," he said, raising an eyebrow suggestively, "There's more I could do. You know, if you're still cold."

My smile widened, and I leaned further into him. "Well, you know, this wind is pretty brutal…"

Our mouths were practically touching then. "I guess I'll just have to take your mind off it, then," he murmured, closing the space. I kissed him back eagerly, tightening my hold around his neck.

Dating Stan – or, the idea of it, really – was a bit hard for me to get used to. That's not to say I didn't like it, oh no. Dating Stan was one of the best things that had ever happened to me. Just the thought of finally dating anyone, let alone Stan, was so foreign to me. I mean, I had a boyfriend.

In the few weeks that we'd been dating, so far no one had found out about our changed relationship status, so I hadn't actually had the opportunity to say that aloud to anyone, but I liked the way it sounded in my head.

Boyfriend. I had a boyfriend.

The thought brought a smile to my face. Or, it would've, if my mouth hadn't been otherwise occupied.

Stan crushed his lips harder against mine, kissing me with a sort of desperation I only felt from him when we kissed. It was that, and the way he tightened his arms around me, that reminded me how much he truly wanted me. We were both breathing heavy through our noses and I sucked at his lower lip, sliding my tongue between his parted lips. One of his hands dropped down and found its way into the back pocket of my jeans.

"Hey, guys…" At the sound of the voice we both froze. Our lips came unstuck and our eyes slid open. I could see the dread on Stan's face, and I could tell he was thinking the same thing as me.

Crap. We'd been caught.

I slowly turned my head to where the voice had come from, only to see Kenny standing there, wearing a bemused smile and a raised eyebrow.

"What's up?" he asked, looking like he was trying his damndest to keep from laughing.

"Kyle was, um… Kyle was cold," Stan said. I shot a glare at him.

Sure. Blame it on me.

"Oh, I see. An' I'm sure your tongue in his mouth an' your hand gropin' his ass warmed him up real good."

I could feel my face grow hot from embarrassment and anger. "Actually," I shot back, words laced with venom, "It did, thank you."

Kenny held up his hands in defense. "Whoa, whoa, relax, man. I come up here expectin' jus' another normal day of school an' I turn the corner t'see my two best dude-friends playin' tonsil hockey. What d'you expect me t'say?"

"What is a normal day of school in South Park?" I scoffed, rolling my eyes. I didn't want to deal with Kenny anymore, so I opted instead for burying my head in Stan's shoulder, breathing the smell of the shaving cream on his neck deep through my nose.

"Jus' a suggestion, but y'might wanna cut the cuddlin' before Cartman finally decides t'grace us with his presence." Kenny's voice was dripping with sarcasm on the last few words.

"You're probably right," Stan said.

I groaned and mumbled incoherently into Stan's neck, not wanting to leave the warm circle of his arms. He chuckled softly, but still dropped his arms from around me. I begrudgingly moved to stand beside him, sliding my hand into his. He smiled over at me and kissed me on the side of my head. I rolled my eyes, but I couldn't help the small smile that formed in return.

Kenny watched all of this, a silent observer, his expression kept carefully indifferent. "So," he asked after a while, and Stan and I stopped flirting to pay attention. "How long've you been… y'know?"

"A couple weeks," I said. Stan nodded in agreement.

He looked surprised about this. "Really. An' this's the first I'm hearin' 'bout it?"

"Well, you know how people in this town are about things like us," Stan defended, tightening his grip on my hand. "We thought you'd probably be okay with it, but we weren't sure about anyone else. And to risk telling one person is to risk telling everyone… You won't tell anyone, right, Kenny?"

Kenny looked offended to even be asked this. "No, 'course not. 'Sides, Kyle, you should know better'n anyone that I'd understand."

"I know, but you told me not to tell anyone, and I figured 'anyone' included Stan, so…"

"Tell me what?"

Kenny and I both glanced at Stan, who looked confused, before turning back to each other. I bit my lip nervously. He sighed and rolled his eyes, trying to hide his embarrassment.

"Go ahead…"

"Kenny likes Butters," I informed Stan matter-of-factly.

Stan snorted, and I could tell he was biting back a laugh. Kenny glared at him.

"I'm sorry, dude, I'm sorry," Stan said. "It's just… Butters? Really?"

"'S not like I asked for this t'happen," Kenny muttered.

Stan turned back to me, mouthing, "Butters?" with his eyebrows raised. I just grinned.

"Why haven't you gone after him, then?" Stan asked Kenny.

"Don' think he likes me like that."

"Kenny. You're kidding, right? The kid follows you around like a fucking puppy. He doesn't just like you, he idolizes you. And you never even give him the time of day."

"I'm tryin' t'take it slow," Kenny reasoned, shifting uncomfortably.

"Dude, Butters has had like three boyfriends already. I really don't think he'd object to you wanting to get in his pants."

"What?"

"Kenny." Stan took a very serious tone of voice, placing a hand on the skinny blonde's shoulder. "He is a bigger flame than the sun. Are you really surprised?"

I broke down in laughter then, falling over into Stan. By the time I finally calmed down enough to stand up again, Cartman was finally waddling over, panting to catch his breath. Stan dropped the hand that was still wrapped around mine, and without its presence I felt very cold again.

"You gahs, ah'm seriouslay," Cartman wheezed. "They have got to move the bus stop closer to mah house."

"Shut up, fatass, you could use the exercise," I spat. "If they should move it anywhere it'd be closer to Kenny's house, he has to walk further than any of us."

"Yeah," Kenny agreed, now digging in the deep pockets of his worn parka. He finally found what he was looking for, producing a cigarette and a lighter. "'S why 'm runnin' late all the time," he mumbled around the cigarette now between his lips, shielding the flame from the wind with one hand as he attempted to light it.

"Ay. You got here earlier than I did, Kinneh. Besides, even if the bus stopped right outside your fuckin' bedroom, you'd be late."

Kenny just exhaled smoke into Cartman's face, which caused the fatter boy to break out into a fit of coughing. The blonde grinned.

The bus finally pulled up then. Kenny took one last drag on his cigarette before dropping it in the snow, following the three of us as we filed into the groaning yellow monster.

The bus is already filled with our zombie classmates, it still being too early and too dark for anyone to claim more than a shred of humanity. I slid into an empty seat, and Stan immediately joined me. Cartman and Kenny were arguing as they took the seat in front of us.

"Really, though," Stan said, his voice low so only I can hear it, "Butters?"

I snorted. "I know, dude, I know."

He sighed, shifting his focus past me and out the window. "It kind of bothers me that he told you about this and not me. It makes me feel like he doesn't trust me. I mean, am I untrustworthy?"

"Stan," I said, moving a hand to lightly rest on his leg. "You're one of the most trustworthy people I know. He didn't mean to keep you out of the loop or whatever. He didn't even mean to tell me – it just sort of came out. And he really doesn't want people finding out about this."

"It is sort of weird… I mean, is he sure he likes Butters? He doesn't usually get crushes on anyone, let alone…" Stan trailed off, lost in thought.

"I know. It's weird. He seems really unsure about the whole thing."

"Well, you know if they do get together, they'll probably only last a week or so and then he'll lose interest."

"Yeah. Like always."

"Like always."

The conversation died into a comfortable silence then. I leaned back into the seat, not thinking about much of anything. One of Stan's hands moved to cover mine where it still rested on his leg.

"Can you believe it's been two months?" he asked softly after a few minutes.

"Two months since what?" I questioned.

"The party."

"Oh." That was the first time either of us had mentioned the party. "I didn't think you remembered that."

"Of course I remembered. I didn't think you remembered."

"How much do you remember?"

"Most of it."

I bit my lip. "How far did we…?"

He smirked. "Later."

I glanced up, remembering where we were, and nodded. "Later, then. But I'm holding you to that."

He leaned in closer – not too much, but enough that I could feel his breath on my skin. "As you wish," he exhaled, hot into my ear.

I smiled and my heart rate picked up, and I found myself wishing it could stay this way forever, me and him. But deep down I knew that was a wish not even Stan could grant, and that was what terrified me.

* * *

A/N: Enjoy the fluffiness of this chapter while it lasts ^_^ Naah, this won't be the last fluffy part (far from it), but keep it in mind to hopefully make up for some of the vague things that may or may not happen later on that you might get pissed at me for =P I can't go into any more detail than that though.  
And introduction of Bunny for the fangirls, I know you're out there ;D Don't worry, I'm one of you. There will be much more of that as more of the story develops.  
I had a really suckish day today, but reviews always cheer me up, and I tend to want to write more when I'm happy ;_; Please review?


	6. I Am the One Who Haunts Your Dreams of

_**Play Crack the Sky  
**__A South Park Fanfiction by DizzyAlice_

_Chapter Six: I Am the One Who Haunts Your Dreams of Mountains Sunk Below the Sea_

A/N: Yay new update~ And it's a long one. I'm starting to get back into the groove of this story, now that I have more specific goals in mind.  
Lol yes, there is another dream sequence, sort of... But this will be the last one for this story (I think. Don't quote me on that o_o).  
Oh and also, this chapter DOES NOT happen on the same day as the previous chapter... they just happened to have similar conversations on the bus ride to school both mornings xD  
Enjoy and please review, I love you guys :3

* * *

Time passed quicker than I realized it could. Days passed, weeks, one month, two. Stan and I were more than happy together – it was so nice to have someone care about me so much. I could see it in his eyes. I was also feeling an entirely new slew of emotions around him, and I wasn't entirely sure what to make of them.

Being best friends and all, I had always been good at reading Stan's emotions, especially his depressed states, which were rare, but when they came on they were bad and lasted a long time. So naturally I was worried when he started growing quiet and distant. I hoped he'd get over it on his own, but after a few days his mood only seemed to worsen. I could hardly get more than one-word answers out of him, and it had been ages since I had seen him smile.

We had a free period together in the cafeteria. I was sitting across the table from him. He was brooding, blasting his iPod so loud I could hear it. He didn't seem to notice the way I was staring at him – he just gazed blankly over my shoulder.

"Stan," I said, but of course he didn't hear me over his music. I sighed, reaching out and yanking one of the headphones out of his ear.

He blinked back into reality, pausing the music and looking questioningly at me.

"What's wrong?" I asked gently.

"Nothing," he mumbled, looking away.

"Stan. We've been best friends since pre-K. I think I can tell when something is wrong. You've been depressed for days now. Mind telling me what's going on?"

"It's… no, it's stupid. It doesn't matter. I don't even know why I'm so upset about this."

"Come on, just tell me. Maybe I can help."

His deep blue eyes were swimming, uncertainty swirled with a strand of trust. It's not a look I got from him often, and from it, I could tell he really was upset, no matter what he said.

"It's just… I've been having this recurring dream. Well, not a dream, even – more like a nightmare."

"What about?"

"It's really weird."

"So?"

"I don't really understand it myself."

"C'mon, just tell me. Maybe I can help you figure it out."

He hesitated, still seeming to not want to tell me, before finally sighing and saying, "Fine.

"In the dream, I'm on a beach," he started. "It's stormy out, and the waves are big, pounding the shores. On the water, I can see this island, like mountains. But while I watch, they start sinking into the water.

"I turn around, and I see you, just standing and watching the whole thing. I call out to you and you look at me with this scary gleam in your eyes, and somehow I know it's your fault the mountains are sinking. A huge wave comes then, and just before it crashes over my head I wake up with my heart racing and this really bad feeling in the pit of my stomach."

I didn't really know what to say at first, so finally I just said, "Wow." A pause, and I added, "How long have you been having this dream?"

"About a week and a half. I've had it almost every night since then." He frowned, looking like there was something else he wanted to say. "I think…" he started, "I think the worst part of it is that in the dream, you don't recognize me. You don't know who I am."

A fleeting voice ran through my head, begging, _Do you know me?_ It sounded familiar, but I couldn't quite place it.

"Like I said, I don't know why this is bothering me so much. I mean, it's just a dream. But I can't shake this feeling that something awful and tragic is going to happen to us. And that's what scares me."

"Stan, nothing is going to come between us," I said, and I could feel my throat tighten, though I wasn't entirely sure why. "I won't let it."

His brow furrowed, and he frowned slightly. "I just really don't want to lose you," he mumbled, his hand moving to slightly cover mine where it rested on the table between us. Normally I'd have moved my hand away, due to the fact that we were in the middle of the cafeteria, but he needed me, and besides, it didn't seem like anyone was paying much attention to us.

"H-hey, fellas…"

Except for Butters, apparently.

I looked up at the blonde, who was rubbing his knuckles together, an old nervous habit. "What, Butters," I demanded, not even bothering to try and hide my annoyance.

Stan moved his hand away from mine.

"W-well I just wanted ta ask ya somethin'…" He bit his lip, glancing back and forth between me and Stan, before just bursting out with it. "Do you know if someone likes me?"

"Um. What?"

"It's just, Craig an' Clyde said they were behind you on the bus today an' they told me they heard ya talkin' about someone who has a crush on me!" Butters was positively glowing with excitement, eyes wide and sparkling.

No matter how head-over-heels I was for Stan, I would never, ever classify myself in the same category as Butters Stotch. He had a pink barrette in his hair. Fucking hot pink. With glitter. Probably Hello Kitty.

As Stan and I had been discussing on the bus again that morning, it was no wonder Kenny would go for Butters out of any other guy. Butters was probably one of the most effeminate guys I had ever met.

"I don't know what Craig and those guys were talking about," I lied, trying to keep the tone of my voice even.

One of the best things about Butters was how gullible he was.

His shoulders slouched and his eyes fell to the floor and his grin dropped away. He looked positively crestfallen. "Oh." He looked up at me through his eyelashes – damn, he had long eyelashes. "Y-you sure?"

One of the worst things about Butters was his puppy-dog face.

I felt my resolve weaken under his gaze. Finally I groaned and looked away. "Okay, fine. There is someone. But I can't tell you who so don't even bother asking."

Stan was glaring at me. I shot him a look right back.

Butters immediately brightened again. "Well, can ya at least tell me whether it's a girl or – or a boy?"

I raised an incredulous eyebrow at him. I highly doubted there was a girl out there dumb enough to have a crush on super-flamey Butters. "It's a guy."

"Okay." He grinned wide, moving his hands up to cover his mouth. Finally he squealed, "Is it Kenny?"

That threw me off a bit, but I managed to hold my composure. "I told you, I can't say. No hints."

"Okay…"

"Why was he your first guess, anyways?"

Stan shot me another look, but that time I ignored him. Meanwhile, Butters' face was turning a color to rival his hair clip.

"I-I kinda… have a crush on Kenny," Butters admitted reluctantly. "I guess I-I was just hopin' it would be him."

"I see."

All of a sudden, his eyes exploded with fear. "Oh hamburgers, please don't tell him I said that!"

I couldn't help a slight chuckle. His overdramatic emotions were quite entertaining when they weren't annoying the hell out of me. "I won't, don't worry."

"U-unless it is him? Then you can tell him if you want, I guess…"

"Okay, Butters."

Butters looked back and forth between me and Stan again, this time grinning. "I'm sorry, was I interrupting somethin'?"

"Um. Sort of."

"Alrighty, I'll let you two alone then… Thank you!" With that he skittered off, leaving a trail of sunshine and rainbows in his wake.

"Oh god he is such a flame," I muttered, rolling my eyes.

"Why did you tell him all that?" Stan asked.

I turned back to him. He looked really mad, like I had just told Butters it was _Stan_ who had a crush on him or something.

"Aw, come on," I said. "I had to give him something. Look how happy it made him. Besides, he has no idea it's actually Kenny."

"He has no clue _now_. But now he's gonna be trying to figure it out and it's only a matter of time till he follows the trail back to Kenny, at which point we will both be promptly murdered."

"So we'll just tell Kenny that Butters likes him. Butters said we could. Then maybe Kenny will finally _do_ something. Problem solved."

"But what if Kenny doesn't do anything? What if he doesn't even like Butters anymore?"

"He does. I just talked to him about it like, yesterday."

Kenny and I had kind of a weird relationship. When we were younger, he was pretty quiet. We still considered him a close friend, he just wasn't as outgoing as me, or as passionate as Stan, or as obnoxious as Cartman. He kind of faded into the background for a while.

It was rare for any of us to hang out one-on-one with Kenny, but one day it happened that it was just me and him.

I don't know why, but he really opened up to me that day. We just got to talking, and he started telling me all these things, about his home life and his feelings and everything. It was entirely unexpected, and I don't know why he picked me to trust with everything, but ever since that day it seemed like I somehow became his go-to, the person he sought whenever he needed to talk about something. That was why I knew about his crush on Butters before Stan did. It wasn't that he didn't trust Stan, he just saw me as more of his confidant, as someone to tell secrets to.

I could always tell when Kenny wanted to talk, because there would just be this look on his face like he'd been thinking too much again. Sometimes I could feel it without even being near him – it felt like we had some kind of weird telepathy or something. I would just know that if I went down to the playground in the park, I'd find him sitting on one of the swings, gently swaying back and forth, his eyes staring out but not really seeing. The swing set was where we had most of our conversations.

I would sit on the swing next to his, and let out a short greeting of "Hey." He'd slowly look over and gruffly retaliate with the same small word.

"So what's up?" I would usually ask next, and then he would tell me what was bothering him – whether it was his family, or school, or money, or whatever.

That time it was – as it had been recently – Butters.

"I jus' dunno what to do 'bout it. I don' usually get crushes like this on people. Never, actually. An' I don't date. 'Sides, I still don' know how he feels 'bout me."

"He likes you," I said, which caused Kenny's eyes to snap to connect with mine. "He does. He told me. He has a huge crush on you."

"For serious? Y'best not be shittin' me."

"I'm not. Ask Stan if you don't believe me. He told us all about it in study hall this morning."

He sighed and looked away again. "I jus' don' know. I mean, 'course I like 'im. I don' think I ever felt this strong a feelings toward anyone else before. It kinda freaks me out."

"Which is all the more reason for you to ask him out," I said. He still looked unsure. "Look, Kenny. I know you can do this. Butters could make you so happy. Maybe he's what you need."

We both fell into a silence then, him due to thinking and me not wanting to interrupt him. He stared out at the snow-covered ground, swaying slightly on his swing.

Kenny tended to give off this tough vibe – the way he had grown up had hardened him. He had to fight just to make himself heard, to protect himself, and it showed. But if you took the time to really look at him, past all that, he still just looked like a little boy, lost in his own skin. His matted hair was in desperate need of a cut, there was a faint dusting of freckles across his nose and cheeks even in the dead of winter, and a slight, almost unnoticeable gap between his two front teeth. But what struck me the most of all was this innocence his eyes still seemed to have. Kenny had seen some horrible things in his time, things I couldn't even begin to imagine. But somehow, he always kept this hope that things would get better. He never let go of that. It kept his eyes sparkling with an innocent sort of youth.

As I watched him and he thought, he absently took a drag on his cigarette. The tip glowed bright as he inhaled. The smoke flowed back out his nose and mouth, the blue-grey smoke rising like daydreams into the dusky evening sky.

"Y'know, maybe you're right," he mused after a long while. "Maybe he is what I'm lookin' for. 'Sides, what do I got t'lose?"

I smiled. "Good. You should talk to him."

"I think I will."

"Let me know how it goes."

"'Course." There was a comfortable lull in conversation, which was shortly broken by him. "How're you an' Stan doin'?"

I sighed. "I don't know. He just won't talk to me. He's been having this nightmare and it's freaking him out, making him worry that something bad is going to happen to us. It was like pulling teeth just trying to get that much out of him. I know he goes through these phases, but he doesn't seem to get that I'm trying to help. He's shutting me out and it's just hard."

"You'll figure it out," Kenny promised gently. "You an' Stan always work it out."

"Thanks. It's just, there's so much more at stake now. I'm just worried."

"You'll be fine. If there's anyone I know who can walk through a fire an' still come out the other side holdin' hands, it's you two. Y'need t'stop worryin' so much."

"You're probably right," I said, but I still thought that was much easier said than done.

* * *

A/N: Ffff I love Butters so much xD  
And I really love the last third of this chapter (where Kyle is talking to Kenny). I don't really know why, I just like the whole quiet winter evening feel I'm getting from it. I like the idea of them being really close friends and talking about a lot of stuff, without any actual K-squared going on - not that I don't love my K-squared because I totally do :D  
Anyways, please review if you wanna make me super, super happy! ^_^


	7. After the Storm

_**Play Crack the Sky  
**__A South Park Fanfiction by DizzyAlice_

_Chapter Seven: (After the Storm.)_

A/N: Hey guys sorry it's been so long since I updated last D: life has been crazy, I completely lost all artistic inspiration whatsoever for a few weeks, got stuck in the middle of this chapter and had to start over from the beginning, but finally it's DONE. Yay.  
Now for an important note.  
I really hate doing this, because I so don't want to be a review-whore, but you'll notice my most recent one-shot (They'll Never Hear Your Muffled Cries) doesn't have any reviews on it. Not a single one. And that makes me really sad, because I personally think it's one of the best things (fanfic or otherwise) I've written in a really long time. I just want some feedback on it. Please, if it's not too much to ask, if you could just read that story and let me know what you think? I would be so, so super grateful and I would love you FOREVER. Like, seriously. Every single review I get on any of my stories makes me so happy - if you guys review regularly you've probably noticed I reply to every single review I get. All of them. I love you guys so much, to take those couple seconds, minutes, whatever, to let me know you're out there and you enjoy what I'm doing, because I try to keep my self-confidence in my writing up but sometimes I lose the hope that anything I write is ever good and that's when I stress that I'll never become a novelist or get anything published ever. This is just one of my steps on my way to that goal. I'm not saying that I won't update if I don't get reviews, but I'm just way more likely to update if you read my stuff and you say something, _anything_, to let me know what you think. It could even be like one word. I'll still be so happy. You will make my day. I swear you will. Just let me know I'm not doing this for nothing, and that my quest to publish a book someday isn't a futile one ;_;  
If you read that, then thank you for your time. Just think about it, please?  
Oh, and please review :3

* * *

Having lived in Colorado my whole life, I sometimes forgot how beautiful snow could be.

While it snowed almost constantly in our small hometown, it was somewhat rare we would get a legitimate blizzard. When that happened, it seemed like the whole world just shut down for a few days. Everyone's power went out, no one even left their houses until the storm passed. There was a lot of board game playing and cabin fever that went into effect.

Life seemed simpler for a little while.

Of course, blizzards were always more fun if you happened to be at a friend's house when the storm came, especially if the power had already gone out. Everyone knows once the power goes out, no one is going anywhere.

But it's not good when the power goes out right in the middle of a heated round of video games with your boyfriend.

"Aw – aww," Stan complained, glaring at the now-black television. "I was just about to kill you."

I snorted. "You were not."

"I so was! I had this whole plan, like, I was gonna ambush you and everything…"

"Sure, dude. Whatever you wanna tell yourself." I grinned at him and he pouted. I leaned in and gave him a quick peck on the lips, which prompted an eye roll, but he couldn't help smiling just a little.

"Come on," he said. "Now that there's not much left for us to do down here, let's go upstairs."

I raised an eyebrow. "You sure? I mean, your parents are home, it's pretty risky…"

He grinned wolfishly, leaning forward. "We'll just have to be careful, then," he breathed in my ear, and by then my decision was made. All I wanted at that moment was to feel his mouth hot on mine again. "Come on," he said again, in a normal voice as he pulled away. "Let's go. It'll be fine, I promise."

"Okay." I smiled. He wrapped his hand around mine, practically dragging me to the stairs. This, however, was only until he stopped abruptly in the hall, causing me to crash into his back. He dropped my hand. I peeked over his shoulder to see that we had almost run into Mrs. Marsh.

"Kyle, dear, it looks like you're going to be staying over tonight. Is that okay with your mother?"

"Yeah, of course." I smiled.

"Alright. What are you boys up to?"

I could feel my face heat up as I though about what Stan and I had just been on our way to do. I quickly ducked to hide behind Stan.

"Not much, we're just gonna hang out in my room for a while," Stan replied nonchalantly.

"Okay. Be good."

Stan grinned. "We will." He turned and guided me up the stairs, following close behind. As soon as he shut the door to his room behind us, he pulled me to him and wrapped his arms tight around me.

With the whole issue of Kenny being the only one to know about Stan and I, it was hard for us to find time to explore the more physical aspects of our relationship. Sure, there were the few stolen kisses here and there in deserted hallways when we were both supposed to be in class, but it wasn't enough. We needed time. But with the constant threat of being caught, and the gossip of our relationship spreading through the town like wildfire, we couldn't afford to take very many risks.

But in a way, that was one of the many things I enjoyed about our relationship. There was that constant thrill, the rush of danger and adrenaline that got my heart racing at every small creak of the floorboards. It was this jolt of fear that made me hold him even tighter, kiss him even harder, relishing in the few moments we had left, alone, together.

I had come to be a firm believer in the theory that Stan's hands roaming over my bare skin was the most amazing feeling in the world.

It was difficult to think properly with our mouths at work, crashing together all tongues-and-teeth-and-saliva. The way our lips fit together just oh-so-perfectly, and – yes – his tongue sliding teasingly across the roof of my mouth was just too good, too fucking _amazing_, that it managed to completely wipe my usually busy brain into nothing but a blackness heavy with lust. Slowly, the world melted away until there was nothing left save for him, for me, for us.

Not much of anything mattered anymore.

Suddenly, Stan froze. His mouth quickly left mine. I half-opened my eyes to see him staring anxiously at the door.

"What's wrong?" I murmured, my chest rising and falling rapidly with heavy breathing. I reached up to gently stroke his hair.

"I just thought I heard someone on the stairs," he replied quietly, turning back to me and smiling slightly. "I think I'm just being paranoid though."

"Mm, better safe than sorry though, right?" I ran my fingers across his cheekbones, his strong jaw line, letting myself fall into his bottomless ocean-eyes. He nodded, smiling, slowly lowering his face to mine until our lips were touching again. This kiss was soft and slow and sweet, and while I certainly enjoyed the alternate form of wild, intense kissing, I think I preferred this gentle, nice way. It was light and relaxing, and let me pretend like we had all the time in the world, even though that was clearly not the case.

The door banged open. "Kyle, Stan, I – whoa."

At the noise, Stan and I sprang apart, panic and guilt rushing through me. Had we really just been caught? Again?

But then my mind stopped spazzing enough that I actually realized what was going on. "Kenny?" I squeaked. "What are you doing here?"

"I-I jus' needed t'talk t'you…" he explained quickly, eyes wide as he shut the door behind him. "Sure as hell wasn't expectin' that, though."

"How did you even get here? We're in the middle of a fuckin' blizzard, dude," Stan said. Now that the threat of being caught was over, he was sitting close to me again, gently putting the red curly mess of my hair back into some sort of order. I studied Kenny, who vaguely resembled a drowned cat. He was shaking and soaked, and while Stan's room was too dark to really see properly, I was pretty sure his lips were blue.

"Don' matter," Kenny answered Stan's question. His eyes shifted all around the room, and I could easily tell something was upsetting him.

"What's wrong, Ken?" I asked.

He sighed and moved to sit on the end of the bed, facing us. "I-I did a bad thing," he said guiltily.

"Define 'bad,'" Stan said.

"Like, really fuckin' bad. I wouldn't blame you if y'never wanted t'speak t'me again."

"Jesus, Kenny, what did you do?"

"I-I told Cartman," he said in an almost-whisper. "'Bout you guys. It was an accident, I swear, an' I'm really, really sorry…"

My mind could not comprehend this.

Cartman knew.

And if Cartman knew, that meant he would tell people. Pretty soon the gossip would work its way through not only the whole school, but the whole town.

Which would eventually lead back to my mother, who had always been so set on me dating and marrying a nice Jewish girl, who had always talked about how she couldn't wait to have little Jewish grandchildren running around her house.

And Stan was neither Jewish nor female.

Fuck. I was as good as disowned right then and there.

I collapsed into Stan, moaning "No, no, no" into his shoulder over and over.

This could not be happening.

My relationship with Stan – and most likely my _life_ – was over.

"Shh, Kyle, it's okay," Stan tried to comfort me, petting my hair. "Maybe… maybe he hasn't told anyone yet. Maybe we can convince him not to."

"Yeah, right. You seem to be forgetting that Cartman _hates my guts_. And with information this life-ruining, he's likely to tell as many people as he possibly can."

"I'm real sorry," Kenny said again. He was cowering at the end of the bed, looking like he was scared we were going to hit him.

Stan sighed, still petting my hair in a feeble attempt to calm me down. "How did this even happen?"

"Well, Cartman found out I asked Butters out–"

"You asked Butters out?" Stan interrupted.

"Yes, I thought I told you this," I said.

"No, you told me he was _going _to ask Butters out. I didn't know he actually did it."

"Oh. Well, he did. Butters said yes."

"I want to hear that story after, but continue," Stan said to Kenny.

"He found out 'bout me an' Butters, an' he was rippin' on me for it. Said he didn't wanna be friends anymore 'cause he wouldn't have any fags callin' themselves his friends. I was jus' pissed, an' without thinkin' I jus' said, ''S too late, y'already got two,' or somethin' along those lines. The second it came outta my mouth I regretted it, I wish I coulda taken it back. But it was too late." There was a pause before he said yet again, "I'm real sorry…"

"Wait," Stan said. "If that's the way you worded it, maybe he doesn't know it's us."

A tiny shred of hope returned.

"No, he knows. After I shut up he was all, 'It's Stan an' Kahl, isn't it?' an' I already felt so bad an' I couldn't believe I said that an' he knew I was lyin' when I said no."

The shred was destroyed.

"Shit," I groaned. "What're we gonna do?"

"There's not much we can do right now," Stan said. "We can try to talk to him once the blizzard's over, but for now, we're stuck here."

I groaned again.

"Now," Stan said to Kenny, grinning, "Tell me about Butters."

I thought the slight smile on Kenny's lips as he started into his story was the first genuine one I had seen from him in a while.

Stuck we were, for three and a half days with nowhere to go other than Stan's house until the snow finally stopped and the streets and sidewalks were plowed. As soon as I checked in with my mom at home (who seemed to be as oblivious to me and Stan's relationship as ever, thank god) I set out to find Cartman.

This proved to not be a terribly difficult task, seeing as he was in his usual location of his living room couch, being waited on hand and foot by the servant he called his mother.

Mrs. Cartman was sweet as usual, letting me into the house even after Cartman yelled at her to slam the door in my face, much to her son's chagrin.

Despite the whole issue of her being a total crack-whore, Mrs. Cartman was a very nice (albeit slightly ditzy) woman. It completely baffled me how she could produce an offspring made of such pure evil – though I supposed that could've come as the result of him being completely spoiled rotten his whole childhood.

"Ah, Kahl," Cartman sneered, causing every cell in my body to explode with hate for him. "I've been expecting you."

"Save it, fatass," I snapped. "Just please – please tell me you haven't told anyone."

"Why, Kahl, I must say I haven't the slightest idea what you are referring to," he said, eyes widening with mock-innocence.

"You know exactly what I'm talking about," I hissed.

"I have to say I don't."

I sighed, frustrated, and rolled my eyes. "What Kenny told you."

"Kinneh told me lots of things, Kahl. I'm afraid you'll have to be a little more specific."

"About me. And Stan. Come on, Cartman, don't be such a douche! I know you know we're dating."

His lips spread into a wicked grin. "I just wanted to hear you say it."

My hands shook and my teeth ground together and it took every ounce of self-control I had not to lunge at him and start pounding his blubbery face in. "Tell me you didn't tell anyone," I repeated through clenched teeth.

"Relax, I didn't. Yet."

"I swear to Moses, Cartman, if you say a fucking word to _anyone_ I will fucking beat you so bad you'll–!" I screamed, jabbing a finger into his chest. He grabbed my wrist and squeezed it until I hissed in pain and managed to wriggle out of his meaty grip.

"I said relax, Jew! I didn't tell anyone. And I won't, if–"

"Ohhh, no."

"–If you do something for me."

I hesitated, then sighed. This couldn't be good. But what choice did I have? It was either do this for Cartman or be forbidden from ever seeing Stan again. But–

But wait.

"You have no proof," I said suddenly. "Stan, Kenny, and I will deny anything that comes at us. No one will believe you."

He sighed, as if annoyed that it had come to this, and pulled out his cell phone. After fiddling with it for a few seconds, he handed it to me. "Oh, I have proof. Don't ask where I got that either, my sources are confidential."

I examined the tiny glowing screen, which was displaying a photo. It was really bad quality, but it still clearly showed Stan and I in the empty hall at school, our lips pressed hard together.

Apparently we had been caught more times than even we knew.

"Don't bother trying to delete it, I've got other copies."

My shoulders slumped in defeat as I handed the phone back. "What do you want me to do."

He grinned. "There's a good Jew. Okay. Here's the thing. The winter semi-formal is in a month, as I'm sure you're aware, and there's this girl–"

"Hold up," I interrupted. "You want me to get you a _date_? I-I was expecting you to make me do your math homework for the rest of forever, or give you all my 'Jew-gold,' or _castrate_ myself. But a _date_?"

His eyes narrowed in annoyance. "Not any date. You need to get the prettiest, smartest girl in school to go to the semi-formal with me. Not that anyone wouldn't want to go to the semi-formal with me–" I snorted, "–but I'm talking Wendy Testeburger here."

"Wendy Testeburger?" I repeated, raising an eyebrow. He nodded solemnly. "Aw, _hell_ no. No. Can I castrate myself instead?"

"You have three weeks starting today. Get Wendy to go to the semi-formal with me, or I'll blow up that pretty picture of you and Stan to poser-size and wallpaper the town with it."

I sighed. "Fine. Why do you want Wendy to go to the semi-formal with you, anyways? Last I knew you thought dances were totally gay."

'They are. But I have plans. Wendy happens to be a vital element. You don't need to know any more than that."

"And you couldn't ask her yourself because…?"

He scowled, glaring at me. "Because I already did and she said no. You have to make her change her mind. Now get the fuck outta my house, Jew."

"Okay, okay, I'm going, geez."

I left Cartman's house with an uneasy feeling in my stomach. I had no idea how the hell I would convince Wendy to go to the semi-formal with Cartman. I had no idea how else to stop Cartman from showing that picture to everyone in the world, including my mother. I had no idea who had taken that picture, who else out there knew my secret.

My life was spiraling out of control and I was completely helpless to stop it.

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A/N: Mm, the plot of this story has gained a life of its own. It's out of my control. I'm just gonna roll with it and see what happens. I think someone said something about there not being enough minor characters, well, that's gonna change pretty soon.  
Cartman is such a douche =P I don't write him all that much, I hope I captured his relationship with Kyle well...?  
More than halfway through this story though, six more chapters to go :3 I'm actually kind of excited to finish it because I have many ideas for my next fic once this one's over and I'm eager to start it. It'll be another K-squared, that's all I'll say for now.  
I won't rambleramble about the importance of reviews after that whole TL;DR paragraph up top there ._.  
But please review? =)


	8. I Spoke the Words But Never Gave A

**_Play Crack the Sky  
_**_A South Park fanfiction by DizzyAlice_

_Chapter Eight: I Spoke the Words But Never Gave a Thought To What They All Could Mean_

A/N: What's this? An update? WHAT IS THIS MADNESS?  
Lol yes it appears that after... how long has it been again? About two and a half months, I'm finally getting around to updating this friggin' story. Sorry it took me so long, guys :c I was on hiatus for a while because I wanted to try to work on some original stuff. That turned out to be a major fail, as I couldn't come up with anything to write about, so I'm back to fanfiction. As it is I already updated _Nothing Seemed to Turn Out Right_ like twice... I just had more ideas for that story I guess xD But then I felt really bad about neglecting this one so I whipped up this chapter yesterday.  
Stan wasn't originally supposed to be in this chapter nearly as much as he is (originally he wasn't going to be in it like, at all) and there wasn't supposed to be any fluff, but consider the steamy ending bit as my apology to you guys for making you wait so long for an update c:  
I hope you guys didn't give up on me in the time I was gone, and that there'll still be enough of you that I'll get at least a review or two ;w; please? Pretty please with Candy on top? ;w; (lol c wut i did thar)**  
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I didn't tell Stan about the seemingly impossible task Cartman had assigned me. When questioned, all I told him about the situation was, "It's being taken care of." I didn't want Stan to get wrapped up in this mess, too – he already had enough on his mind. I would find some way to work it out on my own.

The first thing I had to do was talk to Wendy.

Wendy and I had Biology together. She usually spent the time before our teacher showed up gossiping with her friend Bebe.

There was, of course, the whole thing with her and Stan back in elementary school, which automatically caused me to dislike her. But there was also always the unspoken competition between us academics-wise. Being two of the smartest people in our class, Wendy and I were both always striving to be the best, striving to out-do each other.

But I suppose despite my grudge against her I had to give Cartman some props. Wendy was really pretty. And I could see how her fiery, competitive personality could be attractive, especially to someone like Cartman, who loved a good challenge.

Besides, I reminded myself as I made my way over to her desk, I wasn't doing this for me, or for Cartman. I was doing this for Stan. So that we could be together.

Bebe and Wendy both stopped their conversation and looked at me as I approached. They looked understandably confused – it's not like I talked to either of them much.

"Bebe, could I talk to Wendy for a minute?" I asked.

"Sure, Kyle…" Bebe wandered off to the other side of the room, talking to her friend Red instead.

"What's up, Kyle?" Wendy asked, unwrapping a stick of gum.

"Well…" I said, trying to figure out how to start. "Is there any way I can convince you to change your mind about going to the dance with Cartman?"

Her eyes narrowed. "So that's what this is about. I should've known. You can tell Eric to back off, because there is no way in hell I'm going to the dance with him."

Alright. That was expected. Looks like I'll be resorting to begging. "_Please_, Wendy? You know I wouldn't ask unless I had a really good reason. I hate fatass as much as, if not more than, you do. Please reconsider?"

She looked puzzled. "Why _are_ you helping him, anyways?" she wanted to know.

I scowled just at the thought of it. "He's fucking blackmailing me."

"How so?"

"If I tell you, will you reconsider?"

"Maybe. If you have a good enough cause."

I sighed, thinking this over. By telling Wendy I was risking yet another person knowing about Stan and I, potentially ruining everything for us. But telling her might be the only way to convince her to go along with Cartman's plans.

I had to risk it. It was the only chance I had.

"Okay. I'll tell you. But you cannot tell _anyone_."

"I won't."

"I'm serious. Not a soul. Not even Bebe. Because if you do–"

"Okay, okay, I'm not going to tell anyone! Geez."

"Okay." I looked around the room, making sure no one was eavesdropping. I leaned closer to her, lowering my voice. Her eyes were sparkling with curiosity. "Stan and I are dating. We have been for a while now. But we can't tell anyone, because you know how this town is – they'll never let us be together. Cartman somehow got his hands on a photo of us kissing and he threatened to show it to everyone unless I can get you to go to the dance with him. Please, Wendy, I love Stan and all I want is to be with him. Is it really too much to ask for you to spend one night with Cartman?"

Wendy listened intenetly to my whole plea, hanging on to every single word with only growing interest. When I was done she frowned and snapped her gum thoughtfully.

"Look, Kyle, I'd love to help you out…" she started slowly. "And I'm certainly not one to get in the way of love, but the thing is… I kind of already promised Token I'd go to the dance with him. And unless you'd be willing to let me explain what's going on with you, I'm not sure how I'd be able to rationalize going to the dance with Eric to him."

"No, um, don't tell him. I'll… I'll try and figure something else out."

"I'm really sorry, Kyle."

"It's okay." I sighed, frustrated.

"Hey, good luck to you and Stan, though. Good for you." She smiled encouragingly at me.

"Thanks, Wendy. I'll see you later."

As I slowly made my way back to my own desk, I tried to figure out what the hell I was gonna do. I wondered if Wendy would keep her promise not to tell anyone.

"What was that about?" I heard Bebe ask from behind me.

"Hm? Oh, nothing important. He just had a question about the homework."

"Shit, we had homework? What was it?"

I managed a bitter smile. Well, at least there was that.

The only thing I could think of to do was talk to Token and somehow convince him to not go to the dance with Wendy. It was tricky business, all of this, but I couldn't just sit back and let Cartman destroy my relationship with Stan. I wasn't one to give in that easily.

Token and I happened to have a study hall together last period that day. He sat in the back of the cafeteria listening to his iPod, dreadlocks swinging slightly as he drummed the beat of the song on the edge of the table. I flopped into the chair across from him. He removed his headphones and stared questioningly at me.

"So," I said. "I hear you're going to the Winter Semi with Wendy."

"Yeah…" He looked bothered by something.

"But you're not particularly happy about that…?"

"Well, I just wanted to go with Clyde. Stag, you know? But then he asked Bebe. And I knew if I third-wheeled with them the whole thing would just suck. So I figured if I went with Wendy her and Bebe would want to hang, so me and Clyde could – why am I telling you this, Broflovski? What do you care?"

"Oh, I care, trust me. You should just convince Clyde to go stag with you."

"Yeah, right, as if he would. He's way too concerned about his 'image' to do that."

"How would that affect his image?"

"If he didn't go with a date everyone would say it's cause he couldn't get one. At least, that's what he thinks. I don't know, he got really defensive when I tried to talk to him about it. Why are you so interested in this, anyways?"

"No reason. Thanks, dude."

"Um… sure."

I left the table Token was sitting at in favor of the one I usually shared with Stan. He was running late, as usual.

I thought of what I had to do. I had to convince Clyde that it was okay for him to go without a date, and then he and Token would go stag together, and then Wendy would be free to go with Cartman. Cartman wouldn't show anyone the photo and life would be perfect.

Cartman's blackmailing scheme was turning out to be trickier to deal with than I had thought.

But I could to this. I had to. For Stan.

"Hey, Ky," he said with a grin as he slid into the seat across from me. "Did you miss me?"

I smiled back, my heart accelerating just at the sight of him. "Always."

He dropped his backpack on the table next to us, serving as a shield from anyone who might be looking. I did the same with mine on the other side. His hand moved to cover mine where it rested on the table between us. I gave his hand a slight squeeze.

"Hey," I said, "My mom's going to be out for a couple hours this afternoon, and Ike's going over a friend's house. You want to come over for a while?"

He gave me the cutest lopsided grin, and I cursed the fact that we were in the middle of the crowded cafeteria, because all I wanted was to kiss him breathless right then and there. "Of course."

We ended up ditching because we were both far too restless to sit there for another 45 minutes. The stupid thing about last period study hall was that they expected you to stay there the whole time, but they didn't care enough to make you get in trouble if you left.

Stan had driven to school that day, which was good because it meant we didn't have to wait around school until the buses came, or brave the long walk home. Park County High was just over the border in North Park, which meant one first had to make it through the barren outskirts of town before reaching the populated areas, which was never fun in minus fifty degree weather.

With leaving early and Stan driving, we made it back to my house about an hour earlier than we usually would've. This was, of course, to our advantage, seeing as I had no idea when my mom would be done with her errands. So the more time the better.

"So we should probably get some homework done," I said as we entered my bedroom. "Seeing as we skipped out on study hall and everything."

We both stared at each other for a second before bursting into laughter. I shut and locked the door behind us.

By this point Stan was sitting on my bed, watching every move I made with eyes that seemed to see straight into my soul. I moved to sit in his lap, facing him, my knees straddling his waist.

"You know," he started, absently reaching up to play with my hair, "In a way I wish we could tell people about us. Then we wouldn't have to pretend anymore. We could be a normal couple."

I smiled sadly. "Stan, we're not a normal couple. No matter what, no matter where we go, there's going to be people trying to keep us apart."

"Not necessarily. Let's run away together. Go to San Francisco. Or New York, I know you've always wanted to go there. Get out of this Podunk town. In a city like that, we would be anonymous. We could start a new life together. And no one would care who we were and no one would try to stop us from being together." His eyes sparkled with the thrill of excitement at his fantasy.

I had to admit, it did sound nice. And he did have a point that in cities like those less people cared about who you loved.

"Maybe someday. We could apply to colleges in New York. Save up money. It could happen. Trust me, I want to get out of South Park just as much as you."

He grinned widely, glad I was taking his suggestion seriously instead of just laughing it off. He pulled me to him until our lips were pressed together.

After a short while of kissing we parted, both breathing heavier. I pressed my forehead to his and stared into his eyes, seeing a tiny version of myself reflected over the deep blue.

"I love you, Stan," I said quietly. "So much."

A slow grin spread over his mouth. "Really? You mean it?"

"Of course I mean it, you idiot."

"Well it's just, this is the first time you've said it to me…"

"It is?"

"Yeah."

"Oh."

There were a few seconds of silence, until he finally said, "I love you, too, Kyle." I smiled and kissed him again, showing my thanks by sucking gently at his lower lip. He slowly fell backwards until we were lying down on the bed, me on top.

It felt strange, for some reason, telling Stan that I loved him. I knew I did, I had known for a long time. But actually verbalizing it made it seem to carry a weight that it hadn't previously possessed. There was a heaviness tugging urgently at the corner of my mind. But I ignored it in favor of making out with Stan.

Everything between Stan and I was much more heated in those moments post-love-confession. It didn't take much for our shirts to end up on the floor. Our mouths crashed together hungrily, like we would suffocate if they weren't attached at all times. Stan's mouth moved to my neck, sucking and biting, before proceeding into lower territories.

We seemed to use the night of the party as our marking point of how far we went together. I still only remembered bits and pieces from that night thanks to the booze and weed, but according to Stan, who's memories were much clearer than mine, I had given him a blowjob and then we both promptly fell asleep. I had joked with him after he told me that that he owed me, and it seemed like that day as his hands worked at the zipper of my jeans, which had grown tight, and his mouth travelling further and further down my torso, it would finally be time to collect my reward.

"Wait, Stan, wait," I panted, my fingers tangled in his hair pulling to stop his movements. He looked up at me in slight confusion, his eyes dark and heavy with lust.

"Kyle, wha–"

"Shh."

We both listened intently for a few seconds. "Kyle, there's nothing there," Stan breathed, pulling himself up so his lips could meet mine again. I sighed and gave in, my body automatically convulsing as his hands slid between my thighs.

Suddenly there was the sound of the doorknob jiggling, and then a pounding on the door, causing Stan and I to leap apart.

"Kyle, are you in there? Why is this door locked?" called my mother's voice from the hallway.

"I knew I heard something," I hissed at Stan, whose eyes had gone wide with panic. I threw his shirt at him, pulling my own on quickly and attempting to at least somewhat fix my hair. "Um… that's weird, mom, I don't know, it must be stuck or something," I called back to my mom, getting up and preparing to open the door. My mom was jiggling the knob from the outside, trying to get it to open.

I turned back to Stan, making sure he was decent. I was just about to open the door when he cried out.

"What?" I hissed.

"Kyle, what was that?" came my mom's voice.

"Your pants!" Stan hissed back. I looked down. I had forgotten to zip them.

"Uh, nothing, Stan stubbed his toe," I called out to my mom, yanking the zipper up. It didn't do much to hide the painfully obvious bulge underneath, but I was counting on the fact that my mom would be to distracted by everything else to notice that.

Finally I turned the lock and the door went flying open.

"Hey, mom," I grinned. "I got the door unstuck."

She looked confused. "Hi, buhbie… oh, hello, Stanley," she said, peering past me into my room.

"Hey, Mrs. B. Long time, no see," Stan said.

"You're home early, mom. I thought you had errands to do."

"I forgot the grocery list, and I saw Stanley's car in the driveway, so I thought I'd check in on you boys," explained my mom slowly. "Is everything okay?"

"Yep, everything's fine. We were just… doing homework."

I could hear Stan fighting back laughter behind me.

"You're sure?"

"Yep. Stan has a lot of math homework, I was helping him with it."

"Alright… I'm going to the store now. Call me if you need anything."

"We will. Bye, mom."

She still looked suspicious as she left and I shut the door once again.

"You think she knew what we were up to?" I asked Stan.

"Dunno. It's hard to tell. You weren't doing a very good job of covering it up."

"Covering what up, my boner? Cause there's not much I could do about that."

He laughed. "Actually, I meant covering up the truth, though you didn't do such a good job of covering _that_ up either."

"It's not like yours is any better," I grumbled.

He got off the bed, walking towards me. He smiled, wrapped his arms around my waist, nuzzling his head into the crook of my neck. It was hard to be annoyed at him when he was being so adorable.

"All I know," he murmured into my ear, "Is that if that's your idea of doing homework, we have to do homework together a lot more often."

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A/N: Mmyep, Stan and Kyle kind of really fail when it comes to this whole "keeping the relationship a secret" thing... xD  
I could totally picture Stan just being such a dreamer and being like "LET'S RUN AWAY TO MAGICAL LANDS OF RAINBOWS AND UNICORNS AND HAPPINESS :D :D" it's adorable xD  
I don't like Token that much as a character. I'm not saying I dislike him, I'm just sort of neutral when it comes to him. He just... doesn't interest me, for some reason =/ For this reason I hardly ever write him (if you've read any of my past fics you'll notice in a lot of them he's "moved away" or is just mysteriously not present), but I thought he'd be a good character to insert here due to his friendship with Clyde and his past relationship with Wendy. Hopefully I was okay at writing him.  
And dreadlocks = hot.  
c:  
Please please pretty please review and I'll love you forever~! ;w;


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